Mulder and Scully's Enika Atoll Vacation

The X-Files

Ground Zero by Kevin J. Anderson

Reviewed by Aaron DeWeese

I had not read Kevin J. Anderson before this (I've made it to the 5th of Frank Herbert's original 6 Dune novels).  I had collected many of Anderson's books, and had started reading his blog around the release of his and Brian Herbert's "The Winds of Dune".

Recently on his blog KJA is doing a series of writing tips which is to be a part of a lecture he'll be presenting in Superstars Writing Seminar.  Wish I could go...  Anyway, in one of his posted tips he mentioned that he had written "Ground Zero" in six weeks, which piqued my curiosity.

I had been in love with Gillian Anderson (whoa, is there a relation?) when X-Files was airing and a HUGE fan.  I had sort of fallen off of that cart even before the movies were released.  I never have seen them, though I haven't seen most movies.  That being said, when I first started reading "Ground Zero", I could quickly tell that the magic wasn't there for me anymore.  Scully and Mulder seemed as faded ghosts of the past, and I was really beginning to regret picking up the book in the first place.

This all changed around page 100, where things were picking up.  The historicity of nuclear warfare in the Cold War era was interesting if not disturbing.  KJA really didn't make you feel sorry for any of the people mysteriously murdered, besides perhaps the 2 guys way down below ground.  The old guy maybe, if he hadn't been such a patriotic grouch.  His horse definitely.

I disliked that Scully went to Berkeley at all, but am excited that consequentially she may be a closet hirsute.   It wasn't the same as when Philip Dick talked of Berkeley.  Yes, I do realize Scully is only a character.  Speaking of which, I just remembered when the X-Files series turned sour for me.  It was upon hearing that Gillian Anderson was pregnant with her first child.  X-Files was never the same for me.

My favorite chapter was 22—

Ryan Camida Residence,
Waikiki, Oahu,
Tuesday, 11:17 P.M.

I was carried upon a wave of nostalgia to Magnum P.I. and Charlie Chan's Hawaii.  At this time within KJA's novel, there had also sparked for me a remembrance of things past.  I exalted in KJA's description of Mulder's apartment, gloried in Mulder and Scully's Chinese takeout dinner, and was vividly envisioning Director Skinner's bald pate.

I'm glad I came, as the dead past was not helped to bury its dead, but enlivened a bit.